


Fragmentation II

by Knightqueen



Series: Subroutine Universe [7]
Category: Tron (1982), Tron - All Media Types, Tron 2.0, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Brotherhood, Brothers, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Female Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Rating: PG13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightqueen/pseuds/Knightqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Subroutine 'verse. Progress demands that the sacrifice of others is necessary; the victims, of course, have no say in the matter. Unless you're a user, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sacrifices

**Title: Fragmentation II**

**Genre:**  Family/Adventure

**Summary:**  AU, Subroutine 'verse. Progress demands that the sacrifice of others is necessary; the victims, of course, have no say in the matter. Unless you're a user, that is.

**Author:**  Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Rating: T**

**Characters:**  Ma3a, Yori, Jet Bradley, Sam Flynn, Quorra, Mercury, Eva Popoff, Lora Bradley, Kevin Flynn, Alan Bradley, etc.

**Chapters: 10**

**Written:**  3/8/2012

**Completed:**  3/16/2012

**Disclaimer:**   _Tron/Tron 2.0/Tron: Legacy_  and all things related are property of Steven Lisberger, Bonnie MacBird and Walt Disney Studios (and some other guys I'm probably forgetting but don't care to remember).

* * *

 **Title:**  Sacrifices

**Prompt 1/10:**  Sepia

There was a time where she might've been afraid of the power, afraid of the sterility that it presented. There was no choice, no pain, no conflict; scripting prompted her to follow the system directive and maintain order. Her greatest priority was to maintain balance within an imbalanced system. The uprising of the second Codified Likeness Utility created a fracture within the system that needed mending; however, the destruction of those who could repair it resulted in its immediate worsening. The responsibility, the consequence of playing a hand in the destruction of a naturally occurring code within the system in response to the bigoted envy of one program, rested solely on her shoulders.

She could've have said no, chosen to die alongside her own creation. The day she chose not to leave with the creator was the day she resigned herself to the fate of choosing life or death. He didn't give her the choice at first; she was simply allowed to watch as they were rounded up, herded into boxes and separated from their loved ones. Week after week plowed through time, the population of ISOs slowly dwindled. Some tried to escape, which only moved to escalate the violence against them. On the day of the Purge, he gave her a "choice". Give up the readme files that allowed him access to the ISO cities, or watch them crumble under his heel.

She chose not to give him the files and she was forced to stand next to the self-proclaimed master of the system as a thousand pillars of light were swallowed into the sepia cloud of oblivion. A thousand tiny needles raised her code, eating into her directive. Stripped down to the barest level of permissions, she was confined to the central core of the Administrative Office. She slaved away at patching up the raw and bleeding holes left behind by the rebellion and the infection of her creation. Hunched over on her thrown, she was a hag feeding off the lives of others.

She was the system.

The capture of creator's companions, Tron and Yori, stirred the expected the response from him too little too late. Ma3a remembered it so vividly, the fear in her counterpart's round and chubby face as she dragged from her prison and down into the central core. Her innate curiosity scrutinized the intricate system of wiring wrapped thrice times around the mainframe sphere hanging above her head and down onto the elevated platform where her throne resided, elicited a pang of guilt within her. The ICP shoved her down onto her knees, Ma3a glided over to architect and keeled. So frightened, so disconnected from any sort of sense of safety and order; Ma3a placed a gentle hand on her face, fingers curling around her jaw. "Ma3a... please, you don't have to do this, you can fight him," She whispered, lips trembling. "Please fight him." Ma3a's smile softened as her circuitry began to slow in sync with Yori's. She placed her other hand on her cheek and pressed her forehead against her own. Ma3a felt the young woman shudder in fear as she looked into her wide eyes. "I am the system, there is nothing left to fight."

Watching Yori crumble like ashes was like watching herself being erased from the system itself. She resisted, admirably so, however, she slowly allowed herself to become absorbed within her functions. The smallest spark of guilt nibbled at her core when her hallowed out shell crumbled to the ground, a mosaic of colors. Swallowing against the haze of emotions and thoughts Ma3a processed the data accordingly, separating and filing it in their proper sub-files. The repurposing YORIEXE was complete.


	2. Subterfuge

**Title:**  Subterfuge

 **Prompt 2/10:**  Chocolate

* * *

There were a lot of things Alan expected of Richard Mackey; as someone he considered of less moral fiber than his own friend in the more underhanded aspects of business, there wasn't anything the man wasn't willing to do keep the business running on the model he and Dillinger Jr. created in the span of five years. However, the more naive part of him hoped that the information he'd gotten from his wife was altogether wrong, because he wasn't sure what he could do if and when it happened.

(Actually he was pretty sure he couldn't do anything, but the idea that he could kept him afloat.)

FCon was one of the many opponents in the field of games and software development gunning for them. They had the better overall advantage of sweeping in and absorbing the entire business from underneath Flynn's legacy.

Or rather, sweeping the entire business from underneath Flynn's son.

So, of the events he expected to unfold over the course of the day, walking into the last-minute meeting and finding the executives of FCon sitting at the long table, Mackey and Dillinger Jr. hunched over the table, scribbling furiously with their mechanical pins wasn't on the list. The ring leader, Eva Popoff, stood next to Mackey's chair, a look of pride on her face. The older man looked up from the table and elicited a smile from the fiery redhead. Their hands met, clasping in good nature... and business. Leaning past Mackey, Eva reached over and tried to shake Ed's hand. Dillinger Jr. intercepted her hand, sweeping it into his grasp and pressed the back of her hand to his lips. Alan watched her fingers twitch; they curled underneath her palm, nails pressing into her skin. Instead of being put off (like he expected, because, hey, she was dating his son), she beamed at the young man. "It wonderful seeing you again, Ed," Eva smiled.

"Likewise, Evan."

Alan felt the aftertaste of his chocolate bar go sour in his mouth as he stepped further into the room. "What's going on?" He asked. The energy in the room came to a screeching halt, all eyes directed themselves toward the old programmer like wolves made aware of meat. Eva untangled her hands from Ed Jr.'s, her hair seemed have a life all its own as it masked the right side of her face as she turned to face him. Like a slinky spider, she pushed the papers into her suitcase. "Mr. Bradley, what a surprise. I was told you were out to lunch," Her tone was smoother than refined alabaster.

"I was," He answered, unnecessarily terse. "I just came back. Now, what's happened?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, Mr. Bradley," Seth Crown stood from his seat, obscuring Eva from his line of sight. Alan held back a swallow at the man's impressive size and broad figure. "We've concluded our business with Mr. Mackey and Dillinger, so we'll be on our way." He looked to Esmond Baza, who'd chosen to remain seated for the moment. The smaller man rose from his chair and straightened his suit jacket out in a show of frustration. Eva stepped out from behind Crown's figure and proceeded toward the door.

Alan watched her pass with suspicion, a untrustworthy look was rewarded with a small smile and the bow of her head; Eva's hair blocked her face from his view as she stepped out of his line of sight. Seth and Esmond followed after her, the same Cheshire cat looks on their face. When the doors of the room closed, Alan looked to Dillinger and Mackey; the two men were watching him with similar expressions, full of pride and an underlining guilt that was hard to miss with the way their jaws shifted underneath the skin.


	3. Runners

**Title:**  Runners

**Prompt 3/10:**  Sea Foam

* * *

Somewhere along the ride you learn to stop caring about how to get the destination. Somewhere down the line you start to wonder if a different outcome would harbor different results. Somewhere down the ride you stop caring; somewhere in time you start running.

Sam was a runner; for the last twenty seven years of his life he'd done nothing except run from the one home that wanted to keep him rooted in place. Home wasn't a place, it was memory, an awful bitter memory for a little boy who deserved a little better than what he gave himself. Home was a memory for elderly couple who couldn't pull him out of the hole he'd dug for himself.

The Grid wasn't all that different, only instead of home, it was a place full of memories for his father. His forty year old father, who looked no different from when he last saw him at years old. The reunion wasn't at all how he could remember fantasizing about; in the embrace of his father there was something decidedly alien about the emotions being experienced.

He didn't know how to react; it was easy for Flynn, the level of emotions that poured from his father was immense. Every word eroded the his defense like sea foam, making physical contact a strange thing to experience. Sam wound himself up tighter than an over taut rubber band. His mind locked down, refused to think, refused to feel. The most he could get out was "Is this real?" For too long he'd dreamed of this moment, dreamed of seeing his father again. Yet, here he was, a full grown man, nearing the precipice of thirty years and his father hadn't aged a day since he last saw him.

There was an explanation for that, and Dad, of course, provided it. "Time passes differently in our world; the mind ages the physical representation doesn't; its just a facsimile, how the computer remembers you as."

"It's not real," Sam said.

"No realer than that suit'll be when we get you outta here, kiddo," Kevin grinned, hands flexing on his shoulders. He pulled Sam into another embrace, this one stronger than the last. Sam felt his arms inch around his father and his chin rest on his shoulder; the memory of old spice and French fries hit him, plunging him into the realm of nostalgia.

He saw Quorra watching them with a quizzical expression on her face; her lips parted, as if to ask what was wrong but she said nothing. "I thought I'd never see you again," Flynn whispered. Sam swallowed against the lack of feeling in his throat. Holding his father tighter he said, "Neither did I."


	4. Apartment

**Title:**  Apartment

**Prompt 4/10:**  Blue Skies

* * *

"You people really like the color blue, huh?" It was hard to keep his tongue in his check around her, around any of them really. A Involuntary subject of the "savior complex", chosen by the very "woman" he followed through the neon blue hued room, Jet was only too glad to shrug the responsibility of liberating an entire system... if it didn't mean he'd be trapped here if he did. Mercury's quarters were the very definition of aquatic life above water; a stronger variation of the same blue varied throughout the room, creating a ripple effect on the walls of a rather empty room. There were no personal effects, nothing that remotely signified she had an interest beyond her function.

Just a bed and one lacking sheets and pillows, naturally, Programs don't exactly suffer temperature change in a world without temperature. Mercury paused in her progression toward the bird-fountain altar in the center of the room to cast a wary glance at the young man behind her. "Almost as much you enjoy partaking in cynicism," Mercury retorted. Jet felt his lips pucker in attempt to reframe from smiling, knowing she was right didn't help matters either. "Only when I'm nervous," He replied, casting a wayward glance at protection glass. Mercury circled the altar in her room, freckled fingers trailing the ridges on its very edge. "Yes, I'm well aware of the human defense mechanism, User," Mercury answered ignoring the roll of Jethro's eyes. "I have name, Mercury."

"Yes, it's a stalwart name; Biblical, implicating prophetic purpose," Mercury dipped her hand in the liquid. "What are the chances? Eyes bluer than the bluest skies, hair fairer than our own master, saviors lost in the rabbit hole, innocent of the transgressions of this world created by their shared father... come to save us?"

"Not exactly," Jet folded his arms across his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration as he watched her submerge her hand into altar's water. That was the problem with Mercury; as human as she looked, as beautiful (and alien) as she was, there was nothing remotely approachable about her. Her behavior stemmed of a learned behavior, maybe one she didn't understand from how close she dared to stand next to him or what she said to him. "The shepherd and the seer, once inseparable, now blind without other."

"Yeah, we're a couple regular white saviors," He grumbled to himself. At her puzzled expression he said, "Merc, that very poetic and all, but, Sam and I aren't shepherds or seers. We just want what's ours. We didn't ask to be here."

"No, Ma3a willed it and it was so," Mercury grinned.

"I thought Clu was in control of the system?"

Mercury's smile widened. "He is, but Ma3a is the system; if it were her wish, she could crash the system and you'd be none the wiser." Her hand emerged from the water holding a glowing sphere, perfectly molded to the grove of her folded hand. "Yeah, but does Clu know this?" Jet inquired. "What is that?"

"Clu knows as much as he should; as to what this is?" Mercury motioned for him to closer; Jet hesitated for a beat, weight shifting from foot to foot before he finally closed the distance between them. Mercury raised her hand closer for his inspection; surrounded by two ringers, it spun contently in the center of her palm, entrancing its audience. Mercury leaned closer to him and said, "A portable node; As a User, you contact anyone with this so long as you have their PID."

"Personal Identification?" Jet wondered for clarification. She smiled. "You're learning fast... for User." Jet scoffed. "Nah, this is kids-stuff," He rolled his shoulders and popped a knot in his neck. "Give something harder and then we'll talk."


	5. Bad Driver

**Title:**  Bad Driver

**Prompt 5/10:**  Cherry

* * *

"Got any idea where we are?" Sam appeared beside him, his expression perplexed by the terrain around them.

"Your guess is as good as mine, bro," Jet shook his head, hands gripping what was left of the odd steering wheel of the Recognizer. The boundaries of the cities took on a life of their own; even through the blur of lights and clumsy driving, the architecture was completely unlike their own.

Buildings seemed grow directly from the ground itself, reaching ridiculous heights that would topple under normal circumstances. Lights fluxed on the mood, everything appeared to be touch-activated. The alien blue sky reflected a time of day that never seemed to alter had become blacker than the blackest night; lightning crackled above the sky in sync with the sirens and flashing spotlights. Huddled in corner, Sam and Jet watched the outlines of blood red and orange skitter across the sky like bees alerted to an enemy presence.

Some twenty odd miles behind them they knew the stolen recognizer was discovered, a risky peek over the edge of the building's corner they'd stuffed themselves into revealed the ground was crawling with the hulking ICPs and Elite Guard, armed with seemingly benign staffs. Sam ducked back deep into the shadows as a spotlight flashed in their direction.

Jet's fractured glasses caught the illumination for a moment, he looked the part of a mad scientist from a anime; one eye shadowed, the other naked to plain sight. Sam shook his head and hobbled back over to the corner. "We're screwed if they find us here," He grumbled, slumping against the wall. "What are you doing? Leave that alone." Sam reached over and slapped the agitated hand that was picking at the fluorescent lit suit.

Bradley did his best not look indignant when he shook the sting from his hand. "I feel naked in this cat suit, man," Jet grumbled, pulling the synthetic suit. It breathed like a second skin, melding perfectly with his own, adjusting where discomfort was found. "I thought Uncle Kevin was kidding when they strapped him in one of these things."

"Right? Where do you think our clothes went?" Despite the ache in ankle, Sam found himself grinning at their shared discomfort with the suit. Jet shrugged his shoulders, tongue running across his teeth in agitation. "Maybe they were left behind we got digitized. Mom would know, she helped Mr. Gibbs make that laser after all," Jet murmured. "She still uses the technology at JPL."

"That's all fine and cherry Jet, but unless we can sent her a page, Lora's not a lot help to us right now," Sam retorted. "Why, thank you, Captain Obvious; I had no idea," Jet grumbled, removing his glasses. To his surprise his vision was as magnified as they were when he was wearing them. Huh, optical adjustment, like aspect ratio. He thought to himself. Tossing them to the corner, he cast a wary glance outside. "So what do we do? Sit here and wait for them call us out?"

"Not exactly, Sam, but I'm open to any ideas you might have."

"That's just it, I don't have any. I was hoping you did."

"Bro, my ideas went as far as the flying square-thingy. I cannot stress enough how much I don't have a plan," Jet snapped. Sam groaned, swallowing against the knot in his throat. "Well, then, this whomps."


	6. Programmed

**Title:**  Programmed

**Prompt 6/10:**  Dirt

* * *

"...I don't understand what all this has to do with User Celibacy," Mercury replied tartly, eyes following the wizened old woman as she moved about the cramped space of the basement in Flynn's arcade.

Lora readjusted the Shiva Laser as she removed the twenty plus years dirt from the lenses. Turning to face the computer screen in which Mercury's features were represented through a series of zeroes and ones, Lora situated her back in front of the computer. "Simple, it's a human capability, a human action. Programs can't procreate, am I correct?" She inquired without missing a beat.

The zeroes and ones flickered, changing position to create the proper quizzical expression. "You are correct; we are a system of data, neither male nor female in the sense of mammals. What we are created for, we identify as. So, yes, but all else is a series of subroutines preprogrammed into us by the User."

"...Only, now it isn't that simple?"

"I'm afraid I do not understand."

"I mean, the purpose you were created for, its something you no longer identify with only because of self-awareness?"

"Yes. Ma3a was programmed with the capability of rising to the same level of self-awareness as the MCP; programs created by her are able to do the same." Mercury paused. "Because she is one with the system the Grid itself has become self-aware, it is Ma3a in the sense that she integrated with the power core."

"And because she is self-aware, you are self-aware? The ISOs, I mean?"

"The ones that have survived, yes. I am experiencing the definition of the human condition, though my prime directives would seek to block it. It is the same with Prisoner 542."

"Quorra?"

"Yes."

"Do the boys know about this?"

"No. I did not think it was prudent to inform them," Mercury answered.

"Make it prudent, then. If you're going after Ma3a, then there's a chance she's expecting you or worse, counting on you make the assumption she's ignorant of the plan."

"Yes, I'll do that. Thank you, Miss Banes."


	7. Query

**Title:**  Query

**Prompt 7/10:**  Grass

* * *

"What do you think grass feels like?"

"Like grass, I suppose. Wet, unpleasant and green."

"You don't like the color green I take it?"

"It's an ugly color, representative of an infection. The Users call their own gangrene."

"Yes, but I've seen gangrene, it's not terribly green at all."

"So the data would have you believe. It doesn't change the fact that green is ugly and I suspect the grass will be as well."

"What about yellow? The sun is yellow."

"The sun is not yellow, the sun has no color. Another misconception created by Users as a result of their atmosphere."

"Then, surely, it means it counts-"

"In any event, it doesn't matter," Mercury interrupted the young ISO. "We're programs, not humans. It would be impossible for us to enter their world as though we were flesh and blood."

"It never hurts to try, Mercury."


	8. Grid Consensus

**Title:**  Grid Consensus

**Prompt 8/10:**  Peacock

* * *

Jet blames  _The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest_ , really. When he thinks of a virtual or digital representation of the human mind within a virtual world, he half expects a Matrix green or peacock-version of his psyche. Instead there's nothing except blank space as far the eye could see. The atmosphere was drab, gray and dilute blues and greens combined together to create an almost gray color palette. Looking down at the single exposed hand revealed by the torn synthetic suit, his skin was a sickly gray, bordering on ghostly pale.

"Well, this is a lovely place you've got here," He commented dryly.

"Interface templates are modeled after the first version of Flynn's Grid," A digital projection of Mercury appeared at his side, distorted like a bad signal through an antenna. "It was designed for the sake of simplification, so as not to overload the User with information it can't consume in an otherwise stable environment," Mercury explained.

"You mean the Real World?"

"Correct, Jethro."

"Lovely."

"Flynn thought so," Said Mercury not at all being dismissive of his concern.

There was no telling where the light source was coming from, not directly despite how it seemed to rest right below his line of sight. He stepped forward; applying pressure to the foggy surface below him resulted in a drastic shift, the world around him became pixilated; a thousand tiny blocks started building upon one after the other, creating a massive and cooked system of boxes that seemed to span out into eternity.

Misshapen buildings soon took the place of empty space unfulfilled by boxes. A winding path of panels opened up before Jet, creating a path above the seemingly bottomless pit. Jet watched the phenomena with thinly veiled awe. "Merc, what's goin' on?"

Mercury pointed a hand. "Interface adjustment. The path should lead you to the core-"

"And Ma3a," He interjected.

"-And Ma3a, yes, but it won't last forever. She knows you're here and she'll try to stop you. Go."

Jet didn't waste another second talking to Mercury; he started forward at the quickest pace he could muster and didn't look back.


	9. Duplication

**Title:**  Duplication

**Prompt 9/10:**  Sunshine

* * *

"You've tried what?" Said Sam, thoroughly surprised by her honest admission. "I've tried replicating what sunshine might feel light according to the descriptions of the Merriam-Webster's dictionary," Quorra replied. "The simulations at their present conditions are a near-match according to Flynn."

"You've got some kind of obsession with the sun," He remarked, scratching the back of his head. "To be honest I've never really noticed it unless it was blistering hot."

"Not so, I've other interests, but since your arrival, it's been on my mind more and more," She stopped fiddling with her datapad and turned to face the bewildered young man. "To be honest, I know I'll never truly experience what it feels like, but to guess through description is fascinating enough."

"I spent a couple months living in a beach front house, this is nothing special," Sam grunted, pointing at his face. "They've got lotions and tanning salons now if you want to brown up."

"Humans wish to be brown and not pale?" Quorra puzzled over the term. "Is it socially unacceptable, being pale?"

"Or something close to it," Sam remarked dryly. "And, no, it's not socially unacceptable, more like the vice versa. There are just some people who like a good tan."

"I see," Quorra murmured, eyes falling downcast.

"What can you tell me about Mercury?" Sam asked, changing the subject. Quorra shrugged her shoulders as she turned on one heel. Her expression became shy and withdrawn. "Mercury is a second generation Game Bot. She was specifically designed to participate in the games. They were ISOs designed for deresolution or the execution of rebelling programs and entertainment."

"And Clu let them live?"

"Their lifespan technically doesn't last beyond four of your years. It keeps unnecessary game data down on the Grid. He doesn't have to lift a finger to kill them, their code will break down on its own."

"What about you? Aren't you ISO?"

"Yes, but my design is quite different from theirs. I serve no purpose, I'm a civilian Sprite, and she is a Game Bot. If she were derezzed before her decompile date, her information would be recompiled into another ID. Me? I would simply be deleted, cease to compute."

"Interesting."

"It's simply the way things function here now. Mercury is more than just her prime directive, she's my friend. She helped me escape, so I'm sure she'll do the same for your friend if he wasn't derezzed."

"And you're so sure of that? She wasn't exactly giving out love taps in the arena."

"Mercury was simply following her prime directive. She doesn't know you, had no reason to pull her punches," Quorra explained. "But, if your assessment of your friend's character is correct, then he will appeal to her sympathy."


	10. Alpha and Omega

**Title:**  Alpha and Omega

**Prompt 10/10:**  Tangerine

* * *

"You've spend an awful amount of time here at the apartment, Mrs. Bradley," Eva's voice drifted from the narrow space of the basement entrance, startling the older woman. Lora turned in the seat, eyes focusing on the shadowed figure in white.

Eva emerged from the shadows, spiked heels clicking loudly against the metal stairs. Her smoky eyes wandered the confined space with quiet curiosity before centralizing her attention back on Lora. "I know a mama bear worries for her cub, but this is might creepy," She business woman joked. "People will talk."

Lora gave Eva a look. "Contrary to belief, Eva, how I worry about my son is none of your or anyone else's business," Lora retorted. "How've you been?"

"Well, enough I suppose. Things have been going swimmingly since the merger," Eva shrugged her shoulders, fingers toying with her pearl necklace. "I just dropped by to see if my tangerine dream has come back from seclusion when I see the arcade console had been moved. Jet's been keeping secrets, " Eva ran a single finger over the surface of the wall, grimaced at the sight of the dust on her finger. "-And as usual, failing to keep house."

"That's my son," Lora remarked. "Now is there anything important you needed to tell him or do you have somewhere to be?"

"Not really, I just came home to see him,"

"I thought you lived in apartment downtown?" Lora inquired.

"And your point is?" Eva dismissed the question. "If you've see Jet, tell him we need to talk. It's about his position as head developer at that company of his."

"I'll be sure to," Lora replied, turning to face the screen once again.


End file.
